Edvard
Grieg as Wagnerian? The mind boggles! Here we have a real rarity,
a fragment of Grieg’s incomplete opera Olav Trygvason. No musician in Europe could escape
the centrifugal force that was Richard Wagner, not even one as
disinclined to vast forms as Edvard Grieg. It can even be argued
that much of what was composed later – Strauss, Mahler, Wolf,
Debussy, Sibelius, Elgar – was an attempt to break out of Wagner’s
spell, and to create new forms after the watershed he represented.
For Grieg, the search for an original musical voice also had wider
implications. Norway was, in Grieg’s youth, ruled by the Danes.
Developing a distinctively regional identity was an essential
part in the creation of a new Norwegian nation. This was an exciting
period artistically, inspiring writers like Ibsen and Bjørnstjerne
Bjørnson, and Grieg was very conscious of the role of his music
in the creative renaissance of his time. I cannot recommend too
highly the seminal book by Daniel M Grimley, Grieg:
Music, Landscape and Norwegian identity (see
review),a brilliant analysis of the relationship between Grieg’s music
and the context in which he composed. Indeed, it is superlative
for its summary of cultural theory as well as for its exceptional
musical insight, and a model for understanding music history in
general. Understanding a composer’s context shapes any meaningful
assessment of his work.

Olav
Trygvason, started
in 1873 and added to intermittently but never completed, was
a conscious attempt by Grieg and Bjørnson, to write a specifically
Norwegian opera. They chose a saga about the king who brought
Christianity to Norway, but the project never got beyond the beginning, where
the old Nordic gods are still worshipped. Perhaps that’s why
Grieg and Bjørnson didn’t get any further – these are similar
gods to those in the Ring. At every point, Grieg seems to find
himself drawn back to Wagner, even as he’s trying to write something
different. For example, the music for Loki, the Nordic god of
fire, inevitably evokes Loge and his “fire” leitmotiv. Here,
Loki’s fire will cremate a human sacrifice. The parallels with
Brünnhilde’s immolation are inescapable. Similarly, the baritone’s
part is reminiscent of Lohengrin, and the choruses evokethe pilgrim choruses in Tannhäuser. Grieg writes
the sacrifice’s part for baritone, here sung with requisite
depth of tone byTrond Halstein Moe, but Wagner haunts
the work so persistently, it’s easy to imagine Grieg’s relief
when he gave up and went on to work on Peer Gynt, his
“real” liberation from Wagner. It’s entertaining enough, and
pleasant to listen to, though the third scene is very weak,
half-heartedly modelled on choruses from Russian opera.

Bjørnson’s
long poem Foran Sydens Kloster (At the Cloister Gate)
might have supplied a text for Janàček or Verdi, such is
its over the top pathos. A girl has just seen her father murdered
by her beau who then tries to rape her, so she escapes to a
convent even though she still lusts for the killer. It tells
us much about Grieg that he sets the poem with extreme reserve.
The form is simple: two voices interchange without much colour
in the parts, so it’s up to the singers to add depth in their
interpretation. Kringelborn’s light, clean soprano is well known,
nicely contrasted with the maturity and dignity of Kosmo’s nun.
Kosma is in fact quite young – she just sings with gravitas.

Foran
Sydens Kloster is
significant because it shows how Grieg, even at this early stage
in his career, intuited that vast extravaganzas were not his
natural metier. It’s quite fascinating to hear it as a bridge
between Olav Trygvason and the songs which, with the
piano works, represent Grieg’s true genius. On this recording
we have the six songs Grieg himself orchestrated during the
1890s. The first two are familiar from Peer Gynt. After
reading Grimley’s book, I appreciated Solveig’s Song
better than before. The vocalise refrain is especially haunting
because it allows the voice to breathe “into” it as if it were
a call to carry across great distances. In Norwegian folk music,
there are many types of calls so people could communicate in
the mountains, and of course Solveig is singing as she thinks
of Peer, thousands of miles away. Marita Solberg s breath control
floats the refrain as if it were disembodied, ready to float
into space and cover the distance.

Similarly,
although Fra Monte Picino ostensibly tells of Italian
newlyweds, the vocal line is unmistakably Grieg and “Norwegian”.
The long, searching lines of the first theme spring from the
same sense of spatial projection we heard in Solveig’s refrain,
contrasted with the jaunty, bouncing second theme. Grieg breaks
the phrases in the text ever so subtly to create liveliness.
The voice part is matched by deft, choppy string playing, vaguely
reminiscent of Scandinavian fiddling figures. The piano version
of En Svane is exquisite. It was a favourite of Elisabeth
Schwarzkopf, who sang it hauntingly. In this orchestration;
the magical piano part is muted, single chords on the harp evoking
the stillness on the silent lake. Similarly, Henrik Wergeland is overshadowed by quite theatrical orchestration, cymbals
and massed strings displaying almost cinematic grandeur. It’s
understandable since Wergeland is glamourised in this text as
“Norway’s champion”.
In real life, Wergeland was an early 19th century
poet, not a Hollywood type at all.

Våren lends itself better to larger ensemble, the ebb and
flow of the vocal line creating a strong framework. Listening
to the interplay between assertive figures and the more inward,
I wondered whether this unusual syntax reflects the nuances
of spoken language in some way. Ved Rondane was orchestrated
by Johan Halvorsen rather than Grieg himself, but retains the
gentle nostalgia.

This
is an excellent recording which gives a lot of insight into
Grieg’s music, because it shows him writing for larger forms.
Yet, was opera really a “larger” form for Grieg? His songs and
piano pieces, and the amazingly original Haugtussa may
not be blockbusters in the conventional sense, but they are
so concentrated and so complex that they are masterpieces in
miniature. Listening to this unusual recording was immeasurably
enhanced by having read Grimley’s inspirational book. This BIS
series is excellent, doing for Grieg what the label did, magnificently,
for Sibelius.

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